


Scheduling Conflicts

by incorrectbatfam



Category: Champions (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Ms. Marvel (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incorrectbatfam/pseuds/incorrectbatfam
Summary: Kamala needs to get home before sunset.
Relationships: Kamala Khan & Miles Morales, Sam Alexander & Kamala Khan & Miles Morales
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Scheduling Conflicts

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @bisexualoftheblade for beta-ing
> 
> (and Ramadan Mubarak to those who observe it)

“Man, I could go for a hot dog right now,” Spider-Man—Miles Morales—said. “I’m starving.”

“Ooh, what about shawarma from that place Iron Man told us about?” asked Nova. “It’s right down the street.”

“Shawarma sounds amazing.”

“And with that white sauce, what’s it called?”

“Guys,” Ms. Marvel interrupted her friends, “you’re making me jealous and hungry. You’re making me jungry.”

“Sorry,” the boys said.

“How much longer do you gotta wait?” Nova asked.

The girl checked her phone. “Thirty-nine minutes and forty-six seconds.”

“That’s...scary accurate,” Miles said.

Ms. Marvel crossed her arms over her grumbling stomach. “Yeah, well, you’d be counting the seconds too if you had to go over twelve hours without eating.”

The three teen heroes stopped when someone spoke through their comms.

“Calling all available,” said Amadeus, voice crackling through the static, “The Freelancers are targeting a group of protestors in front of New York City Hall. Priority is to subdue and evacuate the civilians.”

Nova placed a finger on his comm. “This is Nova. Spider-Man, Ms. Marvel, and I are on it. ETA: two minutes”

The streets were chaos when the three teens swung into the streets. Panic literally set in as protestors turned on each other, wielding fists and picket signs. Some tried to run, but the avenues were all blockaded by mound-like walls of concrete erected by Crush and set ablaze by Hotness so no one could try and climb over. A chunk of rock came flying in Spider-Man’s direction faster than his spidey senses. 

With a loud “Embiggen!” Ms. Marvel stretched her hand to the size of a window and caught it before it could hit her friend.

Nova quickly took to the civilians, breaking up a fight between two ladies trying to tie each other up with the same banner. Taller than a skyscraper, Ms. Marvel took the civilians in one hand and placed them on the other side of the wall. While the two worked on that, Spider-Man focused on keeping the Freelancers distracted.

Might was easy, taken down with a simple venom strike and then tied to a mailbox with webs. She was indestructible, but she didn’t have Captain America’s super strength.

“One down, four to go,” Miles said. “Ms. M, how’re you doing with the civilians?”

“I’m good, we almost got all the– AAGH!”

She doubled over, nearly dropping a man if Nova hadn’t been there to catch him as she shrunk back to her normal size.

Spider-Man tapped his comms. “Ms. Marvel, are you okay?!?”

Panic stood over her, one hand outstretched as she bore into Ms. Marvel’s mind. Her stomach rumbled loudly like a baleen whale. 

“Looks like someone’s observing this special month,” the mercenary said. “Let’s see what we can do with those feelings of temptation and desire.”

Ms. Marvel grunted as she stood on her feet, wavering as painful hunger pangs wracked her body. She held her fists up, ready to use whatever energy she had left. She refused to let Panic get to her.

Hotness scoffed from where he was setting fire to the blockade. He leered, “That’s what you get for not staying in your own country–”

_ BAM! _

Spider-Man slammed a flying kick into the fire user’s chest. With two thwips, he webbed each of the villain’s hands to the sidewalk. It was enough to distract Panic, and Ms. Marvel swept under her feet, breaking the villain’s psychic link.

The street crumbled and folded like a tidal wave. Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man were thrown into the Freelancers’ barricade while Nova just barely dodged the moving peak. The latter quickly caught a civilian hurled by the same force. As she hit the wall, Ms. Marvel got a glimpse of the burning orange sky beyond the battlefield.

She checked her phone. The seconds ticked down like a time bomb.

Twenty minutes, sixteen seconds.

“I don’t have much time,” she said as she helped Miles to his feet. 

“I hear you.” The boy spoke into his communicator. “Nova, how are we looking out there?”

“Uh, could be better.” There was the sound of an energy beam striking a building. “I’m calling reinforcements.”

“Good,” Ms. Marvel said. “I need to get outta here and–”

An explosion rocked the battlefield. 

Spider-Man swore under his breath. “I forgot about Cursed Cass. She probably has bombs planted everywhere by now.”

“How many do you think?” she asked.

“The rest of the team was a distraction and we fell for it,” he said. “There’s no telling how many.”

Ms. Marvel opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the roar of thrusters overhead.

“We’ll take care of that,” Ironheart said, dropping Cyclops into the fray. “You focus on getting back in time.”

The ground shook. Loose gravel gathered and crawled up Ms. Marvel and Spider-Man’s legs like a thousand tiny bugs. They pulled, but the rock hardened into a single block like clay in a kiln. 

“Nobody is going anywhere,” Crush declared. “Roxxon personally wants you pesky Champions taken care of, once and for all.”

Nova shot past, saying, “We’ll distract them. Spider-Man, take Ms. Marvel home.”

One quick sweep of Cyclops’s heat vision and the teen heroes were free from the traps.

“Copy that,” Spider-Man said.

Taking advantage of their friends’ distractions, Ms. Marvel shrunk down to pocket-sized and tucked herself in Spider-Man’s hoodie. The latter used his invisibility to safely navigate them out. 

Eleven minutes, ten seconds.

Ms. Marvel held on tight as Spider-Man swung. The air rushed in her face and she let out a whoop, though the wind was too loud and she was too tiny for her friend to hear. They were still on a time crunch, but that didn’t change the fact that web-swinging with Spider-Man was one of her favorite things about being a Champion. 

They landed in the familiar Jersey City backyard. The girl checked her phone.

One minute, forty-five seconds.

Enough time to throw her arms around Spider-Man in a quick hug.

“Thanks, Miles. I seriously owe you one,” she said. 

“Anytime, Kamala,” he said. “Happy Ramadan.”


End file.
